


Night Rounds

by exartemarte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8186993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exartemarte/pseuds/exartemarte
Summary: The Night Rounds of Snape and McGonagall was an event which ran on HP Hump Drabbles during August 2016. Contributors submitted naughty 500-word drabbles and the mods wrote a linking narrative in which Snape and McGonagall would discover the miscreants in flagrante.These were my four submissions:Ch 1: On a rug in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, naked and erect, Seamus has certain expectations ...Ch 2: Pomona has needs - and some very specialist skills.Ch 3: It's the Weasley twins' birthday and Angelina has laid on something a bit special.Ch 4: Cormac McLaggen hates broom cupboards, but a blow job is a blow job ...





	1. Lavender / Seamus (Prompt: Quidditch Pitch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a rug in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, naked and erect, Seamus has certain expectations ...

"I _said_ it would be a turn-on." 

Moonlight glinted on the metal hoops at either end of the Quidditch pitch; the empty stands were in deep, silent shadow. Down on the the ground Lavender Brown raised herself on one elbow to regard Seamus Finnigan, stretched out the rug beside her. "Admit you're turned on."

"Okay, I'm turned on." Stark naked, erection pointing unwaveringly at the night sky, it would be pointless to deny it. 

Lavender pressed Seamus's cock down flat onto his stomach, released it and giggled as it sprang back to impressive verticality. "I love it when it does that."

"I know you do," sighed Seamus. "But, you know, I'd still be turned on behind an invisibility ward. And my dick would be just as springy."

"It wouldn't be the same. And anyway, would you know how to do one?"

"I could find out. Hermione would know."

"Your cock twitched!"

"What?"

"Your cock twitched. Just now, when you mentioned Hermione, you bastard! You fancy her, don't you?"

"Lav, everyone fancies Hermione."

"Why? She's no beauty – what's she got that I haven't?"

"Nothing, Lav – nothing at all. It's just that she's so … unavailable."

"Whereas I drop my knickers on demand?"

"We both know that's not true: it took me weeks to get into your knickers."

"Yeah, well it might be a while before you get into them again!" said Lavender, oblivious of her immediate nudity.

There was a sullen silence.

"This is silly, Lav: it was one involuntary little twitch. We're naked in the middle of the Quidditch pitch – are we going to shag, or what?"

"No way am I going to shag someone whose cock twitches at the mention of Hermione Bloody Granger."

"Aw come on! I've crept down here with you at midnight, starkers under my cloak, risked discovery by Filch, Mrs Norris or whoever. I've stripped off on the Quidditch pitch. Don't go all virginal on me …"

Lavender paused to consider. "A hand job, Finnigan. I'll give you a wank and that's your lot."

Seamus lay back, hands behind his head. "Okay, then. You do a good hand job." He grinned wickedly. "So they say."

Lavender froze, then punched Seamus in the shoulder with a clenched fist. "You bastard!"

"Ouch! That hurt!" Seamus grimaced, rubbing his shoulder.

"It was supposed to hurt. Who says I do a good hand job?"

"Make it a blow job and I'll tell you."

"Okay, a blow job. Now, who's been telling tales out of school?"

Seamus smiled and shook his head. "Blow job first, Ms Brown, then I'll tell you."

Muttering "Bastard..." under her breath, Lavender slipped into a routine more familiar than she would have cared to admit, easing down Seamus's foreskin, licking around the tip of his penis, then taking it into her mouth and starting to suck as she stroked the shaft, cradling his balls with her other hand.

Seamus lay back with a contented smile, hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.


	2. Pomona Sprout / Other (Prompt: Greenhouses)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pomona has needs - and some very specialist skills.

Greeted by soft rustling noises, the young Pomona Sprout felt a familiar tingle of anticipation. Moonlight illuminated her private greenhouse, tucked discreetly out of sight. With a quiet smile, she muttered, "Evening, Gregory." She wasn't quite sure when she'd decided the plant was a he, or that he should be called Gregory.

She started to unbutton her dress.

Magical Herbology had two tremendous advantages: accelerated selective breeding and the knowledge that certain plants could learn. Pomona Sprout had crossed a Devil's Snare with a Flitterboom, bred successive generations with increasingly specialised appendages, and set about training it. Gregory was the result.

As Pomona stepped out of the dress, tendrils reached out towards her body. 

"Patience, Gregory!" She didn't imagine the plant could understand, but like a pet it was sensitive to mood and tone of voice. The tentacles withdrew.

Naked, Pomona pulled up a deep, outsize floor cushion and settled into it. "Now, Gregory."

Tentacles slid up each side of her body and curved round her breasts. Moist, fleshy protuberences provided a feeling much like licking and a small cup on each tendril attached itself to a nipple and started to suck. Glands exuded pheromones that would heighten anticipation and desire.

As she opened her legs a third tentacle slid between her thighs. At its end an appendage like a long, thin tongue inserted itself gently between her vaginal lips, penetrated deeply and began tiny, rippling movements. A fourth tentacle with fingers made small, circular motions on a spot close to her clitoris.

When she started to pant and could feel the tell-tale beginnings of a quiver she spread her legs wide: the tongue withdrew, and she readied herself for Gregory's penis.

Hundreds of selective breeding cycles, many of them false starts, and judicious use of magic had given Gregory a fruit. Supported on a tentacle as thick as a man's arm, it looked like a cross between a penis and a cucumber; it was sensitive to touch and could swell, stiffen and self-lubricate. And ejaculate.

She watched as the appendage stiffened, exuding a fragrant lubricant all over its surface. It slipped into her easily and she lay back, closing her eyes, as it expanded. Moving gently at first, Gregory lengthened the stroke, increased the pressure and speeded up the tempo until waves of pleasure washed over her and she cried out in the throes of a long, intense orgasm. As the organ withdrew it jerked and filled her with a sweet-smelling fluid that was mildly soporific and would enter her bloodstream to help her calm down and relax. When the ejaculate had done its work, the tongue would return and would gently but thoroughly remove the residue.

Pomona relaxed, sated, and reflected that Gregory was learning to manage her climaxes extraordinarily well: there were moments when she was losing control, and she really ought to start using a silencing spell.


	3. Angelina / Twins (Prompt: Kitchens)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the the Weasley twins' birthday and Angelina has laid on something a bit special.

"What the … Gerrof!" George Weasley tried to shake off the house-elf who had suddenly appeared and taken a firm hold of his arm. Across the room his twin, Fred, struggled with another elf. For all their diminutive size house-elves were surprisingly strong and, unlike anyone else at Hogwarts, they could Apparate. With distinct plops the elves and their respective Weasleys disappeared.

And re-appeared in the castle's subterranean kitchens.

"I want them naked, Arnie!" The voice was Angelina's.

"Yes, miss," replied one of the elves, presumably Arnie: he grinned disarmingly at the twins and flicked his wrist. Fred and George were suddenly aware of the cool air on their skin.

"What … where?!"

"You will find your clothes neatly folded on your beds, sirs," explained the elf.

"But—"

"Happy birthday, boys – how else would you celebrate it than in your birthday suits?"

For the first time the twins registered Angelina Johnson reclining on a padded bench in the centre of the vast kitchen, naked. Or she would have been naked, but for the feast artistically arranged on her body. Tasty, savoury bites were arranged around her navel. An elf-special, fresh whipped cream liberally laced with Amaretto liqueur and shavings of white Belgian chocolate, was piped in intricate patterns around her breasts and pubes. Each nipple was topped with cream and a luscious, juicy strawberry.

Angelina grinned. "Tuck in: start from the middle and don't forget to feed me the odd morsel. I shall expect to be licked clean." She slapped Fred's hand away as he reached for a strawberry: "Dessert last!"

The food was delicious. Elf-prepared food usually was, but the elves had clearly made a special effort for Angelina. Appreciative murmurings broke out among the watching elves whenever Fred or George complimented some particularly delectable morsel.

"This is fantastic," said George.

Arnie, evidently the lead elf, looked pleased. "It was fun, Master George. We gets bored doing stews and roasts."

"And chips," muttered another elf, presumably the chief chip-maker.

Licked clean, and having enjoyed the ministrations of Fred doing exquisite things between her legs while George kept her nipples erect, Angelina sat up with a twin on either side and a penis in each hand.

"I was wondering, since it's your birthday, whether you might enjoy a spit-roast," said Angelina when she judged that the boys were sufficiently rigid.

"Er, I think we might," said Fred, grinning hugely. George just grinned and nodded.

Angelina positioned herself on all fours on the bench. "Feel free to change ends at half time."

As Fred climbed onto the bench behind her she spread her knees and arched her back to give him access, not to mention a stimulating view. George positioned himself in front of her and she took him into her mouth, starting a strong, rhythmic suck as she felt Fred easing into her from behind.


	4. Cormac / Romilda (Prompt: Broom Closets)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormac McLaggen hates broom cupboards, but a blow job is a blow job ...

The trouble with broom cupboards was sodding brooms. And mops, and buckets, and all the paraphernalia that dug in your back and occupied most of the bloody floor. Broom cupboards were not designed for sex.

But Cormac McLaggen wasn't going to turn down a blow job. 

The girl had come on to him at a late-night party in the common room, marking someone-or-other's birthday. It happened, though not as often as Cormac would have liked, and the signs were that she'd be up for it. She was a couple of years below him – Romilda something-or-other – he wasn't sure of her full name. A bit pushy, but Cormac didn't mind that. She looked okay: long hair, nice bum and tits that would be comfortably more than a handful. A low top, short skirt and flashes of lacy underwear were signals to which his radar was finely tuned.

By midnight they'd been one of a handful of snogging couples left in the common room. He'd have shagged her there and then – he wasn't averse to an audience – but she'd dragged him off to a broom cupboard in the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room.

She'd used her wand to light a little candle lamp on a high shelf – she'd obviously been here before. The illumination was meagre but sufficient. He'd lifted her top to find that she was no longer wearing a bra, and enjoyed fondling firm, delicious breasts with cute, pink nipples. He'd had occasional dalliances with older women – friends of his mother – and appreciated the pleasure of a pert teenage bosom.

Pulling up her skirt he found she'd discarded her knickers, too. He'd fondled a smooth, shapely bottom and discovered she was neatly trimmed in front as she opened her legs to accommodate his probing fingers; she'd loosened his belt, finding and stroking his growing erection, then _Accio_ 'd a cushion and dropped to her knees.

He'd hoped she would take the blow job all the way. In his mother's day, apparently, well bred girls had been happy to oblige while still retaining their virginity. These days, if a girl sucked your cock she expected a shag. And of course he wasn't averse to shagging – quite the opposite – but in a broom cupboard it pretty much had to be a standing up job. And he was tall. Standing up to shag was okay with the girl kneeling on a bed or chair but if she stood on the floor he would have to keep his knees bent to a degree that could constitute cruel and unusual punishment.

Romilda stopped sucking and presented herself bent over, legs spread and skirt up over her waist. Sighing, he slipped into her and tried to ignore the discomfort in his knees as he worked up a steady rhythm. When she cried out and he judged she was ready he let himself ejaculate deep inside her. 

He was in mid stroke when the door opened.


End file.
